


Hit Your Target

by castielanderson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes it out of purgatory - alone.  As he adjusts back to life on Earth, purgatory haunts him more and more, and with things like Sam and Amelia's relationship and guys in gay bars that look a little too familiar, Dean finds it harder and harder to keep everything together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Your Target

Dean would like to think that what happens in purgatory, stays in purgatory, but of course it doesn’t - for many reasons.  Sam’s a nosy prick, for one.  He wants to know everything that happened, and Dean supposes he can’t blame Sam because well, they’ve never faced anything like this, and if they’re going to get Cas out, they need all the information they can get.

Still, that doesn’t stop Dean from trying to push certain memories and certain parts of memories back.  It doesn’t work.  Because they’re still there, always beating underneath the surface, and god, Dean misses Cas _so much,_ and one day, Dean just can’t help it. He lets slip that something happened after a fight.  Something that Dean never pictured himself doing, never even gave thought to - but it did.  And he remembers.  He remembers fisting Cas’s overcoat and pulling him closer, and that’s when he chokes on his own words and leaves the room, silent.

Sam doesn’t seek him out.  He knows Dean will talk on his own time.

Dean returns later, a beer in hand - his fourth bottle to be exact.  And he acts like nothing happened - just a couple hours ago, and all those months ago in purgatory.

.

.

Sometimes at night, Sam hears Dean mumbling to himself.  Dean can’t sleep and the the mix of alcohol and coffee keeps him awake.  He works for hours on end, searching through books on lore, the internet, his own mind, trying and failing to summon angels he doesn’t know and ones he knows are dead. 

It takes Sam awhile to realize that Dean is praying.  To Cas, specifically.  He starts out calm and collected, promising Cas that they’ll get him out, but then he starts to stutter, starts to trip on his words.  He breaks down some nights, spluttering things that are completely incoherent, and Sam finds himself wondering what exactly happened during that year (though he’s sure he can guess).

.

.

Dean likes Amelia, he really does.  But he suspects Sam isn’t so sure.  Amelia’s good for Sam, and Dean tells him that - he’s happy, honestly.  She allows Sam to have a little bit of normalcy in his life, and even if Dean has to watch them kiss and holds hands and sit on the same side of the goddamn booth, it’s worth it.  The only problem is that Dean is raging with jealousy, his mind stuck in the dark forests that he and Cas used to run through, their own hands held tightly together, and Dean has no idea how to begin to explain.

.

.

After a few months, Dean’s nightmares flare up again.  They were only bad for a week or so after he returned, but once he began to focus, began to think day and night how to get Cas out, they weren’t nightmares anymore.  They were chances for Dean to observe, to try and work through his memories and all of that information he has locked inside his mind.

Now though, there’s no helpful information.  It’s just screams and blood and flashes of light and a pair of wings burned into the ground, branching out from a spread-eagled body in hospital scrubs and a trenchcoat.  Dean wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing fast.  Sometimes his screams are enough to wake up Sam, who’s there with a glass of water and a bottle of sleeping pills.

After one particular dream, Sam can’t get Dean to calm down.  He’s choking on the sobs that threaten to engulf him, all while ranting about how they can’t do this.  How they’ll never figure it out - it was Cas who saved Dean, and there’s no way they’ll be able to repeat whatever the hell happened, and even if they did, they’ll be too late. 

Sam puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder and tells him to breathe, tells him that no matter what, they’re not going to give up, not until they have Cas back.  And even if they are too late, it’s worth the try, but it’s not likely, because Cas is the strongest son of a bitch they know, and he’ll be fighting just as hard as they are to get back to them.

Dean takes deep breath, fighting all the memories that are threatening to burst through the surface.  He almost slips again, almost finishes the memory he’d started just a few weeks back, but he doesn’t.  Instead he takes the sleeping pills and downs them, falling back onto his pillows and going to sleep.

.

.

They work cases just to keep busy, but mostly so Dean doesn’t lose his mind.  He can’t have any free time, or he’ll end up in a bar, drowning himself in alcohol until he passes out.  Or maybe he’ll seek out a girl, only to end up with the guy in the corner wearing a long, tan coat with his dark hair sticking up in all directions.  But his eyes are brown and Dean’s name doesn’t sound as sweet on his tongue.  And in the morning when Dean drags himself back to the motel, his heart’s broken even further.

As it turns out, there ends up being a lot of guys like that.  Dean doesn’t even have time to worry about his sexuality crisis or Sam’s eyes on the hickeys on his neck and the scratches that run down his back.  He’s too worried about the fact that while this guy may be incredibly intelligent and use similar language, his hair’s blond and he’s much too scrawny.  And while this guy is the right size, he’s as dumb as a brick and he’s so obviously only with Dean for the fuck. 

There’s nothing emotional with these guys.  There’s no past behind them.  There’s no rising of perdition or repairing of souls.  There’s no trust and betrayal and rebuilding of broken relationships while they fight alongside each other.  And well, call Dean “Cinderella”, but none of these guys’ handprints fit the fading scar on his shoulder.

Eventually, Dean stops looking for a replacement, and he decides to up the intake of alcohol to get him through the days.  That really doesn’t help much, but it’s all Dean can do, because until he’s got Cas back, nothing will be enough.

.

.

There’s one week at the beginning of December that Dean’s left alone, because Sam promised Amelia that he’d spend some time with her family for an early Christmas. 

Dean doesn’t handle it well.

He tries the bar again - specifically a gay bar.  He drinks heavily until at about one-thirty, someone who’s not a drag queen finally approaches him.  And to boot, he’s wearing a nice, dark suit, and maybe Dean’s finally losing it, his face looks strikingly similar.  As Dean looks closer, he sees that his eyes are a little too far on the greenish side to be the right shade of blue, and his hair is a little bit lighter, but he’s close enough.  Dean goes home with him without a second thought.

However as it turns out, the guys’ no guy at all - he’s another goddamn siren.  Dean ignores the shattering of his alcohol-induced semi-mended heart and tears him to pieces. 

He goes out to his car and doesn’t quite make it.  He ends up sinking to the pavement, grabbing a seat on the curb.  He curls up and pulls his leather jacket tightly around himself.  He buries his face deep in the fabric, and yep, he’s definitely losing it, because he can almost smell that familiar scent.  He closes his eyes, and as the world makes noise around him, he can imagine he’s back in that endless array of trees.  It’s almost like he’s trying and failing to get a good night of sleep again, and if he’d open his eyes, he’d see the shadow of Cas’s wings around him, protecting him.

But when he does open his eyes, all he sees is some suburban neighborhood, lit up by streetlamps, the snow shimmering around him.  Dean pushes himself up, ignoring the ache in his chest.  He lets himself inside his car and turns up the heat, swallowing back the lump in his throat.  He drives for hours on end, apologizing in his mind for the weekend he’s about to ruin for Sam.

At last, he’s back in the small South Dakota town, pulling up to Amelia’s house.  He pulls the car to stop and looks up towards front door.  There’s a big bay window right beside it, and Dean can see Sam’s shadow inside, towering over everyone.  Dean heaves a sigh, and puts the car back into drive. 

.

.

The next two days are agony.  Dean can’t even bring himself to do research.  Every time he tries, the voice of that siren comes back to him.

_“I’m as close as you’re ever going to get, Dean.  Just give in.”_

He shivers violently and takes another swig, and then looking at the bottle, decides to finish it off.  Later, he wakes up, having no recollection of falling asleep, his face stuck to the desk in front of him.  He sits up, closing his eyes tightly when he feels the pounding his head.  He lets out a groan and reaches up, peeling the piece of paper from his cheek.

Sam comes back that night, practically glowing with happiness.  Dean’s sprawled on the couch, the TV off and several empty bottles of alcohol on the floor in front of him.  Dean doesn’t even look up when Sam enters the room.

“Dean?” Sam asks, but Dean doesn’t reply.

Sam hurries forward, and bends over Dean, looking at his brother’s blank face.  He gives Dean’s shoulder a shake, and he suddenly seems to recognize his surroundings.  Dean sits up, blinking and looking around.

“Sam?” he asks.  ”Oh - you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Sam says slowly, sitting down.  ”Dean, are you feeling okay?”

“Never better, Sammy,” he replies, but they both know that’s a complete lie. 

Sam looks around, eyes catching the empty bottles.  And just a few feet away, there’s shards of a broken one, which look like they’ve been haphazardly swept up.  Sam’s eyes move back to Dean, and he finally notices the long gash on the right side of Dean’s face.

“Dean - what happened?” Sam asks, alarmed.  He reaches out tentatively, fingers gently grazing over the cut.

Dean hisses through his teeth, scrunching his eyes.  ”I’m fine, Sam,” he says, pushing Sam’s hand away.  ”I just - I ran into a siren the other night.”

Sam raises his eyebrows.  ”God, Dean - I’ve only been gone for a week.”  He trails off, catching the look in Dean’s eyes - hollow, lost.  ”Dean?  What happened?  What - what did the siren do?”

Dean heaves a deep breath, shaking his head.

“Dean,” Sam says warningly.  ”Dean, come on.  What’s going on with you?  Look, I know - these past few months have been kind of stressful, and - “

“It was Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Sam’s stops short, eyebrows creasing together.  ”Wait - what?”

“It was Cas!” Dean says, raising his voice, and suddenly, he’s on his feet.  ”The goddamn siren was Cas, okay?  He - he found me at the bar and offered to take me home. And God, I’ve been fucking guys left and right for months that look like Cas, because you know what, Sam?  I’m going fucking crazy.  I’m out of my fucking mind, and I can’t take it anymore.  I - I can’t be without Cas like this.  He fucking sacrificed himself again for me, and yeah, you probably thought it’s been the guilt eating me, but man, it’s more than that.”

He sinks back down and buries his face in his hands.  He doesn’t speak.  He just sits and tries not to sob.  Tries not to lose any more control. 

Sam doesn’t say anything.  He knew that one day this would happen, he’s always known, but he never knew it would happen like this.  He didn’t know that they’d finally work through everything to be torn apart.  His mind flashes back to Jess.  It hurts still to think about her, but he’s got Amelia now, and it’s not as bad.  However, he can still remember what it was like those first few months, and right now, Sam’s guessing that’s exactly how Dean feels without Cas - that deep, searing pain; the feeling of breathlessness that never quite goes away; that awful feeling of always being on edge, like your own mind will shatter at any moment.

“Dean?”

Sam reaches out, resting a careful hand on his brother’s shoulder.  Dean turns, leaning into the touch, and then Sam’s got his arm around Dean, hugging him tight. 

And that’s when it all comes out.

Dean starts to lose control again.  He fights the tears, and he starts rambling, telling Sam about that day after the fight, finishing the memory he started.  He tells Sam maybe a little too much information for his liking, but that’s not even what matters, because he finishes off with three words Sam never thought Dean would admit.

And that’s when Sam knows. 

That’s when Sam knows that no matter what, they’re not going to give in.  They’ll find Cas whatever it takes, and they’ll reunite him with Dean, because Sam knows what it’s like to lose someone you don’t just love, but someone you’ve fallen in love with.  It tears you apart in ways you can’t even imagine. 

Dean’s lost Cas too many times already, and now that they’ve finally reached that status, Sam’s not going to let Dean lose him again.

“We’ll find him, Dean.  We’ll get him back, okay?  You just can’t give in.”


End file.
